


crooked

by orphan_account



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode VII: The Force Awakens (2015)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Superheroes/Superpowers, F/M, will delete if this ends up as incest so we've got less than two years
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-01-20
Updated: 2016-01-20
Packaged: 2018-05-15 02:18:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,202
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5767486
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>in which Kylo Ren is totally fine with using his talents for not-so-good things and a new girl on the scene is just trying to figure out this whole ordinary-person-by-day, sort-of-superhero-by-night thing</p><p>{a superhero AU}</p>
            </blockquote>





	crooked

**Author's Note:**

> let's hope the cops don't find this.

Ben is attempting to catch up on several missed hours of sleep when Hux barges in.

“Do knock before you come in next time,” says Ben, barely managing to suppress his ire. He clenches his coffee mug. Hux, as usual, ignores his words.

“Have you read the paper yet?”

“No one reads the paper anymore, Hux. Haven’t you heard of the Internet?”

“Oh, shut up. This is serious!” His colleague flings a rolled news article at his face, and Ben catches and takes his time unfurling it, much to the impatience of the other man. At the very top of the paper lies large, emboldened print:

 

**A NEW HOPE: COULD THIS NEW HEROINE BE THE ONE TO PUT AN END TO KYLO REN?**

 

Re-rolling the article, Ben throws it back to Hux.

“Aren’t you going to read it?” says Hux, slightly irritated. It’s a wonder that neither of them haven’t killed the other yet.

Ben turns his attention to his computer. Or, more accurately, he at least feigns attention. “I don’t see any reason to get worked up over it. New so-called 'heroes' turn up every day like dandelion weeds. It’s not like any of them are a match for me. Or Phasma. Or you, I suppose, if we must go that far.”

Much to Ben’s delight, Hux bristles at this last jab. Then he says, “Well, I have news for you, _Kylo Ren_. She’s been photographed talking to your uncle. The media's having a field day.”

At this, Ben stills. He wants to correct Hux on the detail that Luke Skywalker is _not_ his uncle, because while his civilian identity may still use his cursed birth name of Ben Solo for commercial purposes (really, the name Solo can get you pretty far in the business world), he no longer associates with that family. Only their weak, bleeding, far too  _optimistic_ hearts keep them from publicly denouncing him. But there’s a more important issue at hand. As pathetic as Skywalker is, there’s no denying his power and history. The notion that he may be taking on a protege... well, that is a worrying notion indeed.

“What’s the girl’s name?”

Hux smiles. Getting Solo to concede to him is always a victory. Solo has always forgotten that in the grand scheme of things, the two of them are still equals. “Haven’t discovered her daytime identity yet, but she calls herself the Scavenger. Uses a staff. She seems to have the same powers as Luke Skywalker. Although, she’s not all that polished, nor is she control of herself yet.”

“There won’t be a yet,” snarls Ben, standing up. “Give me that article. I want to see what she looks like. Tell Phasma I’ve got plans to meet someone tonight. She'll understand.”

“I’m not your lackey. Go ask your secretary, or someone you haven't fired yet.”

Raising an eyebrow, Ben casually watches (in reality, he's straining, hard, but nobody has to know _that_ ) and lifts a hand as an invisible force strangles Hux. It’s only when he’s reminded that their master would be very displeased with Hux’s death that Ben lets the ginger go. Hux collapses with a gasp, glaring, and Ben looks back in contempt. Hux could be slightly less ugly, he thinks, if pent-up anger and hate weren’t painting his face in such a harsh light.

A chill suddenly tinges the air, and Ben, knowing what’s to come, steps away from the window. Months ago, in another moment similar to this one, Hux shattered a window pane in spite. Now though, the chill suddenly lifts and the room returns to its normal temperature.

“What?” muses Ben. “Too scared?”

With a grin reminiscent of that of a great white shark’s, Hux stands up. “No, Kylo. I simply don’t let my emotions take over myself. I hope you have a horrible day. I’ll see myself out. Being a chief operations officer can be quite taxing. More taxing than a CEO who sits and sulks in a chair all day long, anyhoo.”

The door shuts as Ben, enraged, yells, “I built this company from the bottom up myself, you idiot!”

It’s a wonder that neither of them have killed the other yet. But someday, Ben thinks. Someday. And it might be someday soon, in fact.

 

* * *

 

He likes being Kylo Ren more than he likes being Ben.

Both personas of his wear black and both of them certainly strike fear into the hearts of many, but there’s a certain strength that Kylo carries that Ben does not. It’s the mask, probably.

(And the name.)

The mask has been with him through thick and thin, and it bears the dents that show it. Its design is modeled after the mask of his grandfather’s. He loves the voice modulator, especially. Of course, puberty already gifted him with the deep voice of a bass, but the unique, reverberating tone of the mask allows for no vulnerabilities. Heavy is the mask, yes, but he likes the weight too. It grounds and reminds him that Kylo Ren is not a lost little boy drowning in waves of loneliness and confusion and inferiority and abandonment, that he is not lost, no, he is not lost--

Kylo Ren crouches on a rooftop, dark cloak blowing in the wind. His silhouette cuts an imposing figure, if not an unsettling one. This city holds plenty of shady characters, but all of them-- the smart ones, at least, or the ones who've run into him before and somehow survived-- skirt clear of him.

“Hello,” he says, seemingly to no one. And there is a no one behind him. At least, according to the report, she called herself no one the first time she came into contact with the police.

The girl starts, and he stands, slowly.

“If it took only a little girl with a stick to kill me, don’t you think I’d be dead by now? Scavenger?”

He abruptly turns around, earning himself a gasp. Well, he always had a penchant for the dramatic.

She’s fiercely gripping that staff of hers, and it’s almost comical, considering that he’s towering over her by about six inches. Like him, she’s wearing a mask too, although hers is more of a cloth head-wrapping and mouth-covering, paired with goggles with black lenses. Surprisingly, her outfit’s devoid of any color, it being a light beige. More and more self-proclaimed “superheroes” have been wearing flashy costumes.

“I’m not afraid,” she insists. “I know who you are.”

“So does the whole city, girl,” he dryly says. “Foreigner, though, aren’t you? Where in England are you from?”

She bends deeper into a fighting stance, and says nothing. Kylo’s ready when she leaps though, and he easily freezes her with a wave of his hand, then lapses her into unconsciousness. Scooping her up into his arms, he sighs under the mask.

“Poor little girl,” he says, and in the modulated voice of the mask, it almost sounds like cooing. “So naive. You forgot that you’re still new to this whole business, didn’t you?”

And he leaps off of the roof sans hesitation, the city unaware that Kylo Ren has, yet again, taken another prisoner.

Ben Solo will be taking a day off from work tomorrow.


End file.
